


Wicked Games

by HadesRuinsEverything



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Dark Past, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Overdosing, Smut, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-01-08 07:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21231779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HadesRuinsEverything/pseuds/HadesRuinsEverything
Summary: Mallory is an exotic dancer and Michael is a pathetic excuse of an Antichrist.When emotions begin to surface, the games begin...





	1. Wicked Games

**Author's Note:**

> For a good time read me....
> 
> Haha I lied.
> 
> It's me. It's a whumpy ride guys.

With a lit cigarette in hand, he walks up to the questionable establishment that has become something of a second home to him. It's the fourth time this week they'll see him sitting in the same spot, waiting. They don't know his name but they know his face. They know his routine. More importantly, they know his money. Money is enough to buy anyones silence. He comes and goes like a shadow. They know he's here to watch her. A former student of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. Cordelia's rising star. A would-be supreme. Fallen from grace.

A glass of alcohol in his hand, Michael is anxious to see the one person who holds any sort of power over him. The lights turn low, the music starts and his heart pounds in anticipation. She comes out swaying her hips, perfectly poised. Grinding her way to anyone giving her a glance. She looks to where he sits, knowing he will always be there, with hungry eyes and an even hungrier mouth awaiting her later. There are others who demand her attention though. Others who get to see what he feels is his and only his. Jealousy comes with the territory. When she finally makes her way over to him, his glassy eyes light up as if he's finally gotten the chance to see Heaven.

Mallory. His little witch. The one he stopped the end of the world for. The Nyx to his Erebus.

"Enjoying the show?" She says with a deviant smile as she starts to push her tits in his face.

_"Always."_

He slips cash into her barely there panties and she winks at him before walking off to finish her set.

\----------

Several glasses downed, he feels a hand caress his shoulder. He looks up to see his favorite set of brown eyes staring at him.

"Wanna get out of here?"

There's always a feeling of excitement and dread when Michael hears those words.

He knows once they reach the threshold of his place, their lips need no introductions. Clothing will no longer be on bodies but strewn on the floor. His hands roam every inch of her he can grab. There's no time wasted tonight. The alcohol in his system, the coke in hers, they both want a different form of euphoria and once he sticks his dick in her, they'll both be on another plane of existence. The way she moans his name when he fucks her is enough to keep him going all night. Enough to always keep them both coming back for more.

What neither of them will admit is that she won't think of him after she's done. Meanwhile, she's all he thinks about even after he comes. After morning has broken, he'll still have her name on his lips.

He knows she'll never surrender herself to him. Or to anyone for that matter. She'll never say the three words he's so desperately wants to hear fall from her lips. She knows he wants to hear them. For her to mean them. Even though he'll deny it until his very last breath. It's not her. It's not who Mallory is.

_Just pretend to. You don't have to mean it._

She placates him from time to time. She has a conscience, that much she's sure of. How she has less of a heart than that of the Antichrist? That she doesn't know.

Maybe she doesn't know how to love anyone. She's never been loved herself. From her mother beating her because she thought she was a devil worshipper, to her father giving her "extra special cuddles" at night when no one was around. She grew to need no one. Trust no one. Love no one.

He holds her close and admires her face.

"Why are you looking at me like that? You're not in love with me or something or you?" She half laughs as she stares at him.

He can't tell her the truth. His Mallie will never love him the same.

_"No, don't worry."_ He chuckles._ "I don't love you at all."_

When she leaves, she takes his heart with her. Every time they see each other, the game restarts and the cycle continues all over again.

\---------

When she hears her stage name being called, she makes her way towards the curtain, waiting for her music to start...

Slowly, she does her strut on the stage...

Mallory looks around in the crowd and sees the unmistakable long blonde hair. Holding a glass in his hand, staring with a predatory gaze. Just as she knew he would be. She smiles and starts her seductive game. She knows she's the only one with the power to calm what burns within him.


	2. Death, Have Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dip into Mallory's past. It's choppy. And jumps around a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some fucked up stuff in this but I didn't go into any real details. I'm well aware of the shit I may get for it. If you read the first chapter, you're aware of the context.

When Mallory is young, she dreams the most beautiful of dreams. Of a beautiful forest. She savors the feel of soft grass beneath her feet. Sunlight peeks through the beautiful canopy of the loblolly's branches above her. The wind wisps through her hair.

It's warm. Light. Unrestricted.

The aroma of pine swims around her. She can hear the spring trickling water about. Maybe she'll play in it. Her feet take her through the dredges of thick fields, through a small path. Leaves and dirt crunch under her. Humming and sunlight seem to become more and more distant the further she walks. The only thing she hears now is her own heartbeat in her ears.

Her steps are in rhythm with the beats.

She doesn't know what she's looking for, but she feels a compulsion to keep going. To keep looking...

Her body thrums with something she can't explain.

She sees the carcass of a young deer. It hurts her young, fragile heart. _Would Mama and Daddy be as upset if I were gone?_ Lately, she wonders that a lot. She feels something strange unfurl within her.

_ **Mallory...** _

~~~~

When she wakes, her father is lying next to her. He's always close to her in the middle of the night. He said he likes the way her cuddles feel different than her mother's. He hugs her too tight and Mallory can't always sleep right. She's tired tonight though.

Sleep comes back quickly enough.

When she wakes up, he's gone. He only sleeps in her bed while her mother is still asleep.

"It's our little secret, ok?"

\-------------------------

When she's 12, she's steadily bringing things back to life. It's become a second nature. The small animals in the woods she plays in all have a new lease on life thanks to her.

She wants to tell her Mama but she's afraid she wouldn't understand. It disturbs the natural order of things. Things are meant to die. It's the circle of life. Mallory feels as though she's playing God.

As a god fearing woman, she'd never accept Mallory.

_At least Daddy loves me..._

It's a fallacy. But she doesn't know any better. It's all she's ever known.

His love had grown physical over the years.

It knew no bounds.

\----------------------------

She finds herself in the familiar woods...

Only this time, it feels different.

There's no sound. No birds, no humming, no water. She can't even hear the thuds of her feet.

She walks the path. Only this time, the trees appear withered the furthered she strayed.

_This isn't like before..._

The deer is gone.

But something is looming nearby...

The sound of crunching branches behind her startle Mallory. She's stunned into place.

_"Don't be afraid..."_

~~~~

She wakes in a jolt. Gasping for air. Hands brings her back down...

"Shh, it's ok. Daddy's got you..."

She isn't sure who the man in her dream was, but he was different than anything she's ever felt before.

_I wonder what it means._

The bed is becoming too small for both of them. She has trouble getting comfortable to fall back to sleep. She asks if he'll go back to his own bed early so she can stretch out and get some rest...

"Can you put Daddy to sleep first? You know I sleep better when my baby puts me to sleep first..."

Mallory hates when he asks... The weight of his body nearly crushes her small frame. He'll be done quickly as long as she doesn't fight or complain. She knows the drill...

\------------------------

A line of gaunt trees and fog are all that she sees now. A vast difference from the sunny forest she first stepped into. Moss and lichen ridden stones clog the air with a musky scent. Grey skies and the damp air give her a chill that cuts down to her bones.

The smell of smoke forms a tingle in her lungs.

Mallory doesn't feel like she belongs here but she keeps dreaming of the same woods. The same voice calls to her. Something; someone, is waiting for her. She feels it.

A sound breaks her out of her thoughts.

A crow's caw.

She looks around to see where it's coming from. She hears it again. As if it's trying to get her attention. To her left, sitting atop a broken tree stump, sits the noisy thing. She slowly approaches it, expecting it to fly away at any given moment, yet it doesn't. It stares at her, caws, taps it beaks on the dead wood, and flies into a nearby tree as she looks on.

She deduces it wants her to follow...

She follows the throaty caws, through the woods, until she hears the sound of something in the sky above her.

_A murder of crows._

The feeling is back again. She knows he's near. She wants nothing more than to get a glimpse of this man that has invaded her dreams for years now. Is he real? Is any of this real? She has to know. She needs more than what she's been given.

Her new feathered friend appears at her feet. Just as she bends down to touch it, a voice startles her.

_"They call to you."_

"I've always been good with animals. Just have a natural touch I suppose."

She wants to turn around. She can't bring herself to do so. His voice is soothing. It's been comforting to her for years now. She's afraid of becoming attached to a face that may not be real.

He comes close to her. She can feel the heat of his body. She feels strange. She doesn't feel the same way she does like when her father is close to her. She doesn't feel ashamed. Or dirty. It's a new feeling entirely.

She's also very nervous at this new revelation.

"Why do I keep coming back here?"

_"You're searching for something..."_

Fingertips graze her knuckle. His skin is soft and burns hot to the touch. She can feel the aura around him. He's letting her have a taste of his power. He won't fully let her in. That's now how this will go. But he wants her to understand.

"What are you?"

The metal of his rings is cold. It makes her shiver. She touches the large black ornate ring before becoming more brazen and feeling for his fingers.

His breathe is hot against her hair.

_"The one that will save you..."_

~~~~

She doesn't realize what's happening until the screaming starts.

Mallory's broken out of a trance and feels weightless until she lands on her back, having fallen onto her bed.

Her parent's terrified faces are all she sees.

"Abomination." Is all her mother says through tears. "You brought the devil into this house."

"No, mama, I'm not. I didn't."

"I saw a woman sitting upon a scarlet beast, filled with names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns..." she whispers as she clutches onto her pendant dangling from the dainty chain around her neck.

"Mama? Daddy?"

She looks to her father as a plea for help. He's looking on in a state of disbelief.

"No child of mine will walk in darkness. We'll cast that demon out of you."

Now she's being dragged out of her bedroom, in tears.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness."

She knew that meant the basement. Only bad things happen down there. This time, not only with a bible and cross in hand, but with a belt and switch too, Mallory knew what was to come. It would be a long, trying night.

\-------------------------

The last thing she remembers is her mother screaming.

Her father's body laid there, bloody. Motionless.

Her mother sits on her knees and begins to pray.

Mallory feels it again. The rage that fuels her very soul...

“Per istam sanctan unctionem et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per visum, audtiotum, odorátum, gustum et locutiónem, tactum, gressum deliquisti.”

Her mother's last breath is barely heard...

\-------------------------

Mallory sleeps on a park bench that night, not far from her now former home. She thanks whatever God there may be that it's warm out. She's alone now and forevermore. Away from the berating. From the unwanted lips against her skin. It's all over now.

An uncertain future lies ahead.

\------------------------

She's nervous the first time she has to go on stage. She's the youngest dancer in the roster at Club Spades. She looks and plays the part. Only she isn't playing...

Waitressing paid shit and wasn't enough to get her by. Her co-worker told her about a side job where she can work under the table. They wouldn't care that she was still underage. They'd take her in a heartbeat.

The boss made her strip in his office, to show him what she'd be working with. He liked what he saw enough to hire her on the spot.

The other dancers would drink and snort all sorts of things to deal with the sort of work they were doing. The first time Mallory snorted a line, she was dancing at a private party. Her and the other dancer, who went by Eris, had just finished being felt up by men almost three times their age. The coke made her feel alive enough to forget. At least for a little bit anyway...

It was the beginning of a lot of things she wanted to forget. All the things she's been through. The things she's done. The things she will do.

\-------------------------

"I don't see why you'd want to go to some sleazy strip club Madison."

"Cause the girls are hot, the drinks are cheap and they don't card. What more do you bitches want?"

Madison, Zoe, and Queenie, three young witches arrive at Club Spades for a night of debauchery. Zoe and Queenie sit timidly at the bar. Madison is knocking down booze and taking lap dances from other customers. They aren't pleased.

When a drunk man gets too rowdy and handsy with her, he's knocked on his ass before any of them can react. They see the small, doe-eyed girl responsible. Then they see shattered pieces of glass floating above him, forming a point, about to slice his throat...

Zoe stops her. Asks her name.

Madison responds in her usual manner. "Fuck."

\-------------------------

"Will, I ever know your name?"

_"You never asked."_

The forest is no longer that of a beautiful summer like Mallory first dreamt all those years ago. Now it is one of decay and ruin.

Why she keeps coming back to this same dream, she doesn't know.

_It must be him._

"So, what's your name?"

~~~~

He never tells her. She always wakes before he mentions it.

Now a student at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, Mallory excels. She no longer has to hide who she is. She's accepted. For the first time in her life, she can breathe.

Everything feels right in her world until things get shaken up with the announcement of a possible new supreme. When a new one rises, the old one fades away. She didn't want to lose Miss Cordelia. She's been the mother she never really had. Mallory has a real family now. She owes it all to her.

When Cordelia mentions the boy, Michael, Mallory immediately feels her blood boil. She's not one to harbor any ill will, but he was a threat to her happy life. When the witches and warlocks come together to celebrate the supposed new supreme, Mallory meets the boy who's responsible for the dismantling of female dominion. He smiles at her knowingly...

If there's one thing her mother taught her, it was manners.

"Hi, I'm Mallory."

_"Michael."_

When she shook his hand she froze. She's only ever felt something like him once before.

_"Is something wrong?"_

"No, nothing." She smiles politely enough.

_"Pleasure to meet you, Mallory."_

The way he said her name sounded like an old familiar song.

\------------------------------

_"I've been watching you. You're different than they are. They know it too."_

Why Michael likes to attempt to get under her skin, Mallory doesn't know. Every time he's near her, he talks. It can range anywhere from philosophical conversations to reasons why he will always be better than any of them. At least she thinks so, she stops listening midway cause he likes to talk about himself a lot. _He probably doesn't even realize I zone out._

"You know nothing about me, Michael. Nothing of significance anyway."

He carefully chooses his words.

_"Your parents were terrible people. Your father especially... They deserved their fates."_

That made a lump form in her throat. Words aren't forming...

_"You've done things that maybe you aren't proud of."_

"What do you know about it? You think cause you know about my fucked up life that you know me?"

_"I know what it's like to feel like you don't belong. To feel guilt. Regret. To feel different. I know you feel like you've found your place here in the world Mallory, but you and I? We're different from them. We shake hands with devils..."_

She doesn't want to listen. But deep down, she knows what he's saying is true. It's a tough truth to swallow.

_"They're afraid of what they don't understand. The ugliness we carry inside of us. We were born broken. It's our curse. There isn't a cure for it. But we can embrace it. Together."_

He slowly approaches her, bends down to meet her eyes and wipes away the tears she didn't realize were falling. He then gives her a smile...

_"The crows. Do they still call to you?"_

\------------------------

"That boy's quite fond of our dear Mallory. He won't harm her."

Myrtle has never been wrong about anything. At least in her mind, she hasn't.

"He's still a threat. Not only to our coven but to an entire world. And in case you haven't noticed Myrtle, she's fallen for him. When the time comes and Mallory won't do what needs to be done-"

"It'll be alright Delia. Have some faith. And a stiff drink. Looks like we're all going to need it."

\------------------------

After the death of his adopted mother, the coven knew death would be coming for them. It was only a matter of time.

They didn't plan on being betrayed by one of their own. Cordelia knew. She must have known.

"Michael will kill you, and I can't let that happen."

"I'm sorry Miss Cordelia..."

"Mallory, what are you doing?"

Mallory makes her choice the second she walks out of the door, leaving Cordelia and Myrtle to their doom.

\------------------------

"If you go through with this Michael, I'll have no choice but to go back to my sisters and finish what was started."

_"You really think they'd take you back after the way you played Judas?"_

Mallory hadn't thought about any of this. But maybe she would try if it meant the world could be saved. If Michael could be saved.

"If you do this, you lose me."

\------‐---------------

Mallory took a gamble walking out that night. She didn't know what Michael would do. She also couldn't go back to Louisana and face the sisters she left behind either.

She found herself, once again, utterly alone.

She goes back to a life she knows will welcome her back with open arms...

It'll be a few years until she sees Michael again.

But one thing is certain.

_He chose me..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mallory's mother quotes Revelation 17:3-8. Referring to her as the Whore of Babylon. And then John 1:9. Also, the latin is The Last Rites prayer. I figure if Mallory was being accused of being evil, why not slip some evil Latin tongue up in this bitch. A chopped up Bojack Horseman line is in here too. Club Spades is a real strip club in Louisana


	3. The Widow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's a dick cause his feelings are hurt. Surprise, surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some parts sound choppy cause they were added in on my notes and not written. My bad. Maybe I'll fix the shit dialogue. Maybe not, we'll see.

The sun sets as another night at Synn Gentlemen's Club begins. She's only just arrived and Mallory is already feeling off. It could be because they're playing Stevie Nicks between sets. Normally this wouldn't bother her in the slightest. But tonight, it's grating on every one of her goddamn nerves. Memories plague her mind with the words of "Edge of Seventeen" ricocheting off the walls and into the dressing room... _Miss Cordelia. Misty. Jesus, Fucking stop Mal._

Maybe because she reminds her of a time she can no longer return to. The only White Witch Mallory likes sits in a pile next to her vanity. _At least this one wouldn't judge me for all the fucked up stuff I've done._

An exasperated groan leaves her soft lips.

Mental preparations aren't the norm. Tonight, Mallory keeps to steady breathing and short paces.

It's almost showtime. She puts on her tiny nude-colored g-string and black lacy bra, does her hair in her signature loose, messy beach wave curls, her light grey smokey eyes are always favored. She finishes it off with her signature Dior Iconic Red lips. She passes the time and checks her phone. There are no calls or messages. Everyone she talks to is here working tonight. With a sigh, she chucks the phone in her bag for the night.

She hears music die down from baby stripper Trinity's set. She had taken her under her wing; showed her the ins and outs of the place. Tonight is her first solo dance. Depending on Trinity's demeanor, she'll gauge whether tonight will be shit or not.

The whistles and loud ramblings from intoxicated patrons are muffled from the thick velvet curtains. The clunking of thick heels are heard shuffling towards the dressing room.

"They're a live bunch tonight."

Trinity immediately started undoing her shoes the moment she walked back into the room.

"I heard. The crazy must be out tonight."

"Brace yourself - A bachelor party came in not too long ago..."

Mallory utters a "fuck" under her breath.

"Yeah." She lets out a sympathetic sigh. "That guy is here tonight. The hot blonde one."

This catches Mallory's attention. "He's a regular. What about him?"

"He asked for you. Dropped me two hundo for it. Didn't even have to give him a lap dance or show him my bikini burger. Though with a face like that..."

"Yeah, sounds about right. I guess he does have a pretty face."

"With a face like that he can have anyone he wants, yet he spends all his time here. Something's gotta be wrong with him, right?"

_If you only knew, kid._

Mallory stares off, slightly bemused, as Trinity is packing up her things to leave for the night.

"Maybe he's just lonely."

"Hard to be lonely with naked bodies in your face all the time. I'm heading out of here."

"You working tomorrow?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I'm always working."

The weariness of Mallory's face remains rife. Trinity strives to be done working this place in a few years. Secretly hoping not to become a lifer like her fellow colleague.

Mallory has seen what time in places like this does to a person. Most arrive timorous and far too innocent; Perfect for the likes of the vile people that circumstances like this can drudge up. You never become accustomed to the filthy hands that feel you're a purchased property. One must become desensitized to survive. Stolidity replaces once cheery dispositions. They wear their respective masks of seducer and whore when the money comes out. Everyone has a price but not everyone has a soul to barter. It wears them all down eventually because time is a cold, heartless bitch in that regard.

Mallory often wonders how things would be if her circumstances differed.

Her nightcap is waiting on the table. A small pile of communal powder sits atop a mirror, along with a razor and a rolled-up bill. Grabbing the razor, she prepares lines. Once the lines have been cut, her hand grabs the dollar and brings it to her nose; Sniffing a few times once she's done to ensure the contents are cleared out. She licks her finger, picks up some of the residue and swipes it across her gums. She only does this for special occasions.

The coke has her teetering on a manic slope. She still manages to maneuver herself up and through the hall with ease.

She waits for her cue. Once the curtain is drawn, she's no longer Mallory. She transcends into something otherworldly. She's uninhibited when she's out on the floor knowing that she holds a different means of power. Glassy eyes feast over her practically naked form as she grinds in their faces and purrs sweet nothings in their ears. Only lies reside on her tongue. She exposes shortcomings and coaxes desires. Rarely does she satiate craving.

Mallory looks over and spots her target sitting in his usual spot. Patience isn't one of his virtues, but Michael revels in how she looks posing and spinning out on the pole. The low red lighting casts beautiful shadows against her complexion. Basking in the irony of her inverted crucifix pose, solely for him. It's a beginner move but she only does it when she knows he's watching.

His predatory gaze meets hers. Eyes never shifting, her body meets another and starts giving a lap dance. Michael keenly watches.

He discerns she's approaching. Her nearby scent seizes his attention. He's enthralled. When Mallory appears, she wastes no time crouching down before him, grabbing the lapels of his expensive coat and pulling him towards her. Her brown eyes survey his blue. Darting her tongue between her lips, she licks a stripe against his mouth. He enjoys the flummery, no matter how facetious it may be. It's short-lived when she forcibly pushes him back against his seat. He smiles and takes a gulp from his near-empty glass.

"Like what you see?"

She's on the end of the stage, legs dangling when she suddenly feels his fingertips lightly caress her skin. She brings the tip of her six-inch stiletto to his throat. Not waiting for a reaction, she begins to rub against the crotch of his pants with the other. The friction is stimulating every nerve in his body. Mallory can see his impressive protruding bulge hardening under her shoe.

_"You know I do."_

This earns him a genuine smile.

"Your place later?"

A groan leaves his mouth, _"Can't tonight. Have a thing..."_

She ceases her movements. She gets off the stage altogether and straddles him instead. This catches him off guard.

"Something fun?"

_"Not really."_

She notices how rapidly he counters her questions. He's never turned down an opportunity to get her into bed. It's chiefly why he comes to watch her. She's unaware of the unspoken reason he dwells.

"Should we make this a private party?"

The hues from the red lights make Michael's cherubic features look sinful. Fire blazes in his eyes when she says the words. He needn't utter a sound when his breathing tells all.

He follows her through the shadows, sneaking peeks of her tiny ass slowly sauntering on to the VIP room.

Tonight, he dines on the finest delicacies of the "private menu." Only reserved for privileged persons. He knows this because money talks. His speaks the loudest of all. Others dare not attempt to approach his little witch.

A man of refined tastes, it takes something truly marvelous to titillate his palate. One swipe between her lips, his tongue tastes every forbidden desire he seeks.

It's not long before her bra is off. His hands no longer keep to themselves. His fingers pinch the hardening bud of one her tits while popping the other in his mouth. He wants to take things slow, but that's not how Mallory does things. She pushes him away, gets on her knees and slowly works the zipper of his pants instead. The hitching of Michael's breath always makes Mallory smile.

Drunk on more than just alcohol, he watches as her hands work a different kind of witchcraft. Captivated by the way her lithe fingers wrap around his cock and the way she looks into his eyes as she sinks her mouth onto him. He once again falls prey to her game the moment the first moan falls from his lips.

Mallory's on her knees, however, he's the one revering.

Her perfect mouth is the principal element of why Michael's hell exists.

He's reduced to nullity when their eyes make a connection. The warmth of her mouth, the sensation of the moans in her throat vibrating down to his balls.

He forfeits.

_"Come here."_

His voice strains as Mallory takes him all in, slowly pulls back, then sucks lightly at his crown before popping off completely.

Doing as instructed, seeing as she knows where this is headed, she slips off her g-string, and straddles his lap. Grinding her slit against him earns her a pitiful moan. He's at her mercy without much effort.

_"Fuck me. Now."_

He's aware of how pathetic he seems.

"You didn't say please."

Swiveling her hips, his hands keep hold of her ass, helping her grind harder on his aching cock. Jutting her hips forward, he runs his head slowly along her wet folds, until Mallory takes the reigns and rewards his good behavior with her quickly lowering herself onto him. Michael's not halfway inside of her before he's moaning like he's about to cum.

Working her hips in time with his upward thrusts, he catches her mouth in a passionate kiss. Mallory knows he's close when he stops tongue fucking her mouth and his bottom lip trembles. It's his tell. His thrusts become erratic while his fingers harshly pinch her nipples which gave her the edge she needed to get off. Michael's loud moaning in her ear signifies he's lost all control. The already leaking fluid between her legs dribbling onto his pants is clue enough. Mallory is rhapsodic hearing him moaning her name like a whore. 

Their skin glistens under a film of sweat. The air smells of musky sex. Shaky breaths and jellied limbs take moments to recuperate.

_"I love you, Mallie."_

The heavy bass of the music playing is the only distraction to cut into the uncomfortable silence that follows this admission.

Feelings were never supposed to be involved.

_Maybe it's cause his dick's still half-hard in me. Clouding his judgment..._

"It's just the post-fuck haze talking." She surmises.

She shifts her hips up to dismount.

Grabbing her clothing to re-dress, Michael looks on silently, perplexed at her indifference. Betrayal blooms in his chest. He knows better than to hope for anything more, but it still burns him to know she won't reciprocate.

_"Why?"_

She finishes fixing herself up, "Why what?"

_"Why don't you love me?"_

Mallory pauses to mull over her thoughts. She wasn't prepared to have this conversation while on the clock. Michael never did have the best timing.

"I do love you, just not in a way that would make you happy."

Standing up to compose himself - he finally tucks his dick back in his pants, smooths out his coat and gives himself a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

_"Not in a way that would make me happy?"_

Unbridled emotion took over. One of rage and chaos. Mallory will share in his suffering.

_"I've done everything for you. Devoted myself entirely to you. I've loved you forever..."_

"It isn't love, Michael. It's self-destruction."

Ties had been severed with one statement.

Michael, never to be one upped, puts the nail in the proverbial coffin.

_"Is it because I don't fuck you like daddy used to?"_

Mallory feels like the world has shifted. Tears brimmed her eyes, incensed at what she just heard.

Michael realized his oversight immediately.

Without warning, Michael's body comes in contact with the concrete wall. It takes him a moment to process what transpired. Mallory waits for his retort. He just watches her face.

When she approaches, he stands down with a contrite stare. It was a low blow, even by Michael's standards. He knows precisely which buttons to press. He never claimed to be a decent man. He is Satan's spawn, after all.

A feeling of pride surges in his chest when she slaps him. He feels her distress.

Mallory stands in such close proximity, they're intaking the same air. Liquid fire burns within her eyes.

"We would never work, Michael. We would destroy each other."

_"We haven't. Even when we were destined to, we didn't. We proved everyone wrong..."_

She remembers.

She thought she was powerful enough. Perhaps the tiny cracks finally gave way and have broken her beyond repair.

"I thought I could help you, Michael."

_"I'm not the one who needed saving, Mallie."_

"I didn't need you. I got out on my own."

_"Really? Who do you think gave you the push? I'm starting to think you waited so long because you really were enjoying getting pounded by daddy dearest."_

She slaps him once more before spitting in his face.

He knows exactly what he's doing. His outward demeanor is calm. Even if inward he's seething. Both of their hearts are shattered.

She gives him a final tear-streaked glance, then turns her heel. The sounds of her footfalls receding towards the door echoes on the cheap linoleum flooring.

She approaches the door, clasps the handle and then stops herself. Saying one final piece before making her departure.

"You and I never should have been Michael. We're walking abortions at best. Never should have been born, much less conceived. Should have stayed a stain on our parent's beds. Especially you. Don't show your face here ever again."

She slams the door behind her and doesn't look back. Quickly making her way back to the dressing room, she swaps out her bra and cum soaked g-string and opts for a sports bra and cotton panties. A white shirt, sweat pants, and slides are her outfit of choice for the walk home. She collects her things, throws everything in her bag and walks out the back door without saying a word to anyone else.

\----------------------------

It's a warm, quiet night in Los Angeles. She's not even a block from the club when she's approached by a car. She almost tells them to fuck off before she recognizes it. And the person inside of it. It's Debbie, the house mom.

"You looked upset. Figured you could use a lift home."

Debbie being her sweet self, Mallory couldn't tell her no, "Thanks, Deb."

"The girls said you left in a hurry. Something to do with that boyfriend of yours?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Ok, ok. I've seen the way you two look at each other."

Mallory sees no point in the discussion but she doesn't mind entertaining her.

"We've been on and off for years now." She leaves it at that.

They're stopped at a red light and Deb bestows some life advice that Mallory isn't quite sure how to take, but appreciates as someone who's lost too many mother figures in her lifetime.

"You know, my mama, God rest her soul, told me the best way to keep a man happy, was to keep his balls empty and his belly full. Been married for almost twenty-five years. I guess she was right about something."

A sincere smile appears on her face.

Loud incessant honking from a car behind them ruins the moment when they don't move the moment the light turns green. Mallory sticks her head out of the window and starts screaming before Debbie could, "Keep honking motherfucker and we'll pull out of this light slower than your father did the night he accidentally made you!!"

Debbie's face beams with pride, "You make me so proud."

The remainder of the ride consisted of Debbie giving Mallory marriage advice.

Once Mallory is home safe and sound, she checks her phone. Just as she suspected, no missed calls or messages. She crawls into bed, turns off the lights and let's sleep overtake.

\--------------------------

Back at Synn, it's been a while since Mallory has seen her long-haired admirer. It's her usual round of clients that wade in and out every few weeks. The ones that only come about in intervals of their partners not finding out or when a bachelor party decides to crash.

She changes up her setlist. No longer performs several of her signature moves that were for done for a certain Antichrist. She adds new ones, such as the ballerina. She entertains a new regular named Tommy. Tommy is a lawyer who pays handsomely for Mallory's company.

Tommy knows nothing about her.

She intends on keeping things this way.

\--------------------------

Her heart is thumping away in her chest as she waits for her music to start. She chalks it up to the coke she just snorted. The velvet curtain pulls back and she makes her way onto the stage. Before she makes a full spin on the pole, she's startled by the face of an old acquaintance. His presence always did put her on edge.

Glass secured in his hand, he watches from afar, just as he's always done. Normally, Mallory would make him wait while she went through the other drunks of the club first, but tonight, she's feeling a strong pull she couldn't fight even if she tried.

She's broken out of her reverie by Tommy. She can feel her former client glowering at them. Michael slams his glass down a little too hard when he overhears Mallory giggle.

She grinds her perky tits in his face, lets her hands linger in places on his body longer than she should. The moment of truth comes when he slips the bills in her panties. His fingers plunge dangerously close to where Michael calls home. This isn't acceptable but fuck logic when emotions are running high.

"Your place later baby?"

"Can't. I'm here all night."

Mallory looks sultrily at her former lover before strutting back to the stage.

\---------------------------

Lighting up a blunt, the only thing Mallory plans on doing tonight is basking in the euphoria of the purple kush she's about to indulge in. Always running on an energetic high, she's decided to switch it up. Luckily, her dealer supplies her with anything she asks for. Not every night needs to be a coked-out bender.

_If only inner Mallory would listen to such sound advice._

Her thoughts focus on Michael in her blitzed out state.

A hellacious force to be reckoned with, he's a dangerous adversary. Ironically, Michael was always her safe haven.

The body and psyche are ephemeral entities. Beings fitted with a soul. She questions whether they possessed one.

Knocking breaks her train of thoughts.

She already knows who's on the other side of the door. She felt him before he made his way up.

Words aren't spoken. Body language says everything their tongues can't.

Apologies are irrelevant when you won't rectify your behavior.

Clothing becomes floor decor.

They push and pull until boundaries are breached. Scratch to feel one another underneath fingernails. Bite to savor forbidden mounds of flesh. Dark bruises mar once perfect skin. Sheets are stained red from battle wounds. The triumph is in his acquiescence. For her, he surrenders.

This is him, behind the veil. For her. Only for her.

Michael is a blistering storm that ebbs and flows. The byproduct of years of resentment and pain; he's vindictive. It's his fatal flaw. The storm that causes devastation also protects from things unknown. Mallory is the eye that influences his course.

He is destruction and chaos. She is catastrophe and ruin. Jointly they exist to annihilate.

Mallory understands they'd never survive one another.

Michael isn't easily swayed.

He falls prey to her game once more...

Consequently, they shatter one another until they are scattered pieces, reminiscent of a glittery night sky. Shards remain forever embedded even after the sun rises. Pieces of each other stay forever ingrained.

Emotional wounds show as much as physical.

There's elegance in the broken. There's solace in the intimacy of worn battle wounds.

No one will understand their broken the way they do.

\-------------------------------

When morning comes, Michael wakes up alone.

He notices a message on his phone from Mallory.

_ **See you at the club later** _

The cycle continues. And the game once again begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Synn is a real club in LA. All the pole dancing moves mentioned are real. Rubbing cocaine on your gums is usually called "gumming." It gives a different kind of high/facial numbing.


	4. Do It For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end. Michael's been a terrible asshole. Mallory spirals out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some heavy stuff. I'm expecting some shivs thrown at me. It's for the greater good, I swear.

"You and I never should have been Michael. We're walking abortions at best. Never should have been born, much less conceived. Should have stayed a stain on our parent's beds. Especially you. Don't show your face here ever again."

Like an anchor has the power to halt a vessel, Mallory's venomous words cease the impending storm.

They penetrate him quicker than bullets.

Ego left gravely wounded, he can only watch as she walks away, angrily slamming the door.

Michael's own stupidity confounds him at times. His diatribe wasn't merited. His words were weapons that shouldn't have been fired. He loves her - it's not some difficult construct one couldn't piece together. Things shouldn't be this fucking complicated.

Debating on chasing after her, he's stopped in his tracks when his phone starts ringing. He hesitates, sighs, and answers.

_"What?"_

His response is more curt than intended. The recipient on the line wasn't the one that got his pretty pink panties in a twist. He collects himself, reels in his dickheaded inclinations and speaks in a calmer manner. It's easier this way.

_"I'll be there soon..."_

Watching the screen as the call ends, he grapples with himself as he scrolls through his contacts. He abandons the notion fairly quickly. Placing it back in his pocket, he ignores the incoming texts coming in.

Making his way out of the VIP room, he exits the club hoping to find her.

He watches from the shadows as Mallory gets into someone's car.

He follows. Mallory unknowingly screamed at him when he purposefully honked his horn at them.

Relief comes when she's dropped off home, alone. He quietly leaves to his next rendezvous.

What she doesn't know won't hurt her.

\----------------------

Michael sits in his car, enjoying a few moments of solitude. Staring at his phone, he's composed and amended the same message countless times. He doesn't have the balls to press send. Apologies aren't his forte. Mallory may not forgive him. He deletes the text and abandons the idea altogether.

Contemplating his options, he's debating whether this endeavor would be worth his time.

Thinking with his dick leads him to the steps of the ostentatious home. Secrets and sorrows won't be the only things Michael is burying tonight.

Waving his fingers silently unlocks the door.

No man-made lock can keep out Satan's angelic faced abomination.

Sipping on a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon 2014 and donning a delicate black silk robe, his companion hears the footfalls of his favored Louboutin's nearing. She patiently waits perched on the chaise for his arrival.

Walking isn't necessary, but dramatic bitch he is, he likes to keep her on her toes.

Goosebumps decorate her skin as footsteps become noticeably close. Her heartbeat thumps in his ears. Her demeanor is cool but he senses the eagerness that prowls just under her facade. She's more transparent than she realizes.

"You're late."

He notices the pink tint of her flushed cheeks.

_"I was unaware there was a scheduled timeframe."_

"Maybe you're not the only person I have waiting to get me off."

He admires her attempts to provoke him. A sardonic grin appears on his face as he studies his liaison's features. She's second-guessing herself as he's searching her mind without her knowledge.

_"We both know the only thing you planned on getting off with tonight was your wand. I'm doing you a courtesy. Be grateful I entertained the notion and showed up."_

"Like you'd turn down the chance to stuff your dick somewhere."

_"What makes you think I haven't already?"_

The vehemence behind his response cuts Madison down to size.

She rolls her eyes and takes a gulp of wine from her oversized glass. The vitriol would only exacerbate. Fires can't extinguish themselves. She knows the game and plays it adequately.

_Fucking asshole_

She attempts to stifle her inner monologue, not that it matters with Michael. They'll hurl digs one moment, then be tearing clothing of each other the following. Voracious appetites are assuaged, at least temporarily.

Hunger makes desperate fools of them all. Cravings are just altered for every vice.

"Whatever Lestat, are we gonna fight or fuck? Cause I only called for one of those services."

Ignoring her remark, he heads towards the bar and pours himself a drink.

She intently watches as he saunters over. Her hands begin to roam as soon as he's within proximity.

He swats her away like a misbehaving child, causing her to pout.

_"I didn't say you could touch..."_

Settling down on the opposite settee, she's forced to come to him. Salacious music suddenly begins to play, startling her.

"What the f-"

_"Dance for me."_

A frequent request, she caters every time. She's aware of the expectations he has. His motives. Those she can't personally fulfill, yet so eagerly wants to even if she burns trying in the process. His carefully crafted strategems break even the strongest of willed.

Downing his scotch, his eyes follow her every move as she sways. The robe is discarded, leaving her in nothing but her Gucci shoes. He'd be a lying fuck if he said he didn't enjoy the scenery.

_"Come"_

Doing as she's instructed, Madison, brazen thing she is, is already unbuttoning his pants. Freeballing isn't a surprise. She expected it, though it probably wasn't exclusively for her.

He smells of sex, cigarettes and a subtle aroma of warm cherries. He's been marking his territory all night it seems.

Madison's mouth is useful for more than just incessant shit talking. Her oral skills are quite impressive.

Michael likes her like this, down on her knees, worshipping his cock.

Closing his eyes, he envisions a different set of lips wrapped around him. Green eyes sneak a peek up at him with hollowed cheeks, but all he sees is his favorite cognac-colored eyes staring back at him.

Theoretically speaking, Madison is a competent enough companion. Like him, she's been broken since her conception. A tragically shattered soul. Michael knows she'd be loyal; self-preservation being her strong suit. Pride being her shortcoming. However, her voice is too shrill as opposed to the auditory honey he's after. Her natural scent is too floral. She cowers easily. Michael craves a challenge.

Nevertheless, there's no denying they're pieces of different puzzles trying to fit themselves into a picture they don't belong in.

Loneliness makes for strange bedfellows.

Maybe they weren't so unusual.

A trouble shared is a troubled halved. They share in the anguish. The only difference is Michael is the source of hers. Mallory is the source of his. The neverending fuck of a cycle...

\------------------------------------

Michael wakes in Mallory's empty apartment.

_ **See you at the club later** _

He planned on seeing her tonight. Until Madison made an unexpected drunk visit that night at his place.

Her inebriated drivel starts to resonate with him.

"Why bother when you get nothing in return? We both want the same things, you know. Difference is, you don't want them with me... What's so wrong with me?"

A pang of guilt comes creeping in.

He won't admit his transgressions.

His apologies only come in the form of fucking. Orgasms automatically render everything else null and void.

_ **'Maybe she has a point'** _

Could be his dick talking...

Michael never made it to Synn. He spent all night with Madison in the in-between worlds that only he can manage to do.

\-------------------------------------

At Synn, Debbie spots Mallory backstage and notices her smile.

"What got you in a good mood?"

"When am I ever in a good mood?"

Mallory attempts to conceal her enthusiasm. She couldn't recall the last time she was truly optimistic about anything.

"Whatever you say honey. Wouldn't have anything to do with that boyfriend of yours would it?"

"I don't have a boyfriend, Deb."

Arms crossed, Debbie looks at her with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

"What?"

"That darked hair man isn't your beau?"

_Oh._

"Tommy's great. But I don't think it's anything serious."

"If he's giving you that smile, I like him. Keep him."

Her music begins, it's time for her to go on.

"Hurry out. Good luck."

"Thanks Deb."

A few deep breaths and out she goes...

A few spins on the pole lets her take a glimpse at the room. It's mostly regulars, a few freshies thrown in. Mallory notices the empty chair along the back wall is empty. This bothers her greatly, though the why is escaping her.

She gives a few mediocre lap dances and makes her way backstage.

Her mood shifted instantly. He holds more power over her than she dares admit.

Haphazardly hurling clothing into her bag, she prepares to head home. Debbie, not one to miss anything, sees the quiet spectacle transpiring.

"Hey, you want a ride?"

"I'm fine, I can walk. Thanks though."

Mallory knows better than anyone that Debbie loathes hearing the word no when she's attempting to help.

"Let's go pain in my ass. Get in the car."

She knows better than to argue with her. She gets in the car without saying another word.

The car ride is quiet. She's secretly grateful, not wanting to delve into the dynamics of her fucked up intimate relationships.

Checking her phone, she sees there's no messages.

"Child, who's name are you obsessively checking for?"

"No ones."

A lie.

"You wouldn't be checking every few mins if that were true."

Debbie knows these girls all too well. Mallory is no exception. She feels a special kinship with her.

She admits defeat and sends a text. It's what normal friends do.

_Nothing._

Pulling up to Mallory's place, Debbie makes sure her opinion is listened to before Mallory makes a run for it.

"Listen, stop looking at that damn phone. He'll be back. He's never been gone for long."

_Deb isn't oblivious_

Mallory knows who Debbie is referring to.

Here she assumed no one noticed. Debbie sees all.

"What if he doesn't?"

"He's been around for years. Doubtful he's going anywhere."

"Thanks Deb."

Debbie watches her safely reach her door and drives off.

When Mallory reaches her empty apartment, she debates going to Michael's.

_Don't be stupid Mal._

She goes upstairs to her empty place, checks her phone one last time and calls it a night.

_Fuck you asshole._

\------------------------------------

Mallory spots Michael in his dark corner.

"Hey stranger, funny seeing you here."

She notices an empty bottle of scotch in his hand.

It's been a while since she's seen her admirer. This particular one anyway.

_"I... missed you."_

His words sounded like cursive writing in motion.

"Is that so?"

Strutting towards him, she takes away his empty bottle and places herself in his lap instead. His eyes become lost in her face.

His heart begins fluttering.

This little witch will be his ruin. His humiliation. His downfall. She's the puppeteer playing the strings.

She lays a few playful nips against his throat.

Something interesting piques her curiosity.

The redolent fragrance of Hypnotic Poison pervaded his impeccable suit. It wasn't her scent she was breathing in. It sure as hell wasn't Michael's either. Mallory vaguely remembers that aroma of vanilla and spice.

Heaviness weighs in her chest. An unexplainable feeling she can't interpret.

_"Something wrong?"_

Michael's too shitfaced to realize anything is amiss. Mallory lays on a coy smile and bats her eyes.

"Nothing."

His face is all smiles. Mallory doesn't know how to take any of this.

_He's completely fucking bombed right now_

_"Private party?"_

"Why don't we go back to your place?"

His demeanor suddenly shifts.

_"I have somewhere to be. Don't you have Tommy to warm your bed now anyway?"_

_So this is how he wants to play..._

"The only thing Tommy fills is my wallet. He's my best paying customer."

Reaching into his coat pocket, he grabs a wad of cash and shoves it into her panties.

Michael's maintains eye contact as his hand trails upwards from the hem of her g-string to her belly button and then agonizingly slow between her tits. His fingertips lightly graze her collarbone before gripping her throat.

A slight squeeze makes her pulse quicken and her cunt throb.

_"You're mine, Mallie. Room. Now."_

She leads to the designated room. She grabs a bottle of rum while shuffling past the bar. Mallory knows Michael will down anything when drunk.

Generally, she takes the reigns behind the doors when at Synn, but Michael has other plans tonight.

He wouldn't accept a blowjob from her. He needed to have her right then and there.

The smell of perfume is turning her off more than she thought. She takes a few huge gulps of rum to get through. She makes sure he starts downing the bottle himself before anything heavy starts happening.

Michael is annihilated to the point that he's telling her the strangest, yet most telling things.

_"Don't worry, Mallie. Only you get the honor of my baby batter."_

_Did he just fucking call his load baby batter?_

"Thanks. I guess."

Two orgasms later, Michael finally comes and can barely keep his eyes open. _Perfect._

The way he is, he may not be able to even redress himself. _Even better._

"I'll be right back, ok?"

Mallory dresses quickly and heads out.

"Hey, Chet. My friend is a little drunk. Can you just make sure he leaves ok?"

"Sure, no problem."

Mallory wants to investigate before Michael realizes she's gone.

\----------------------------------

Gliding her hands along the silk sheets, she remembers the last time she christened them. Michael's face spent hours buried between her thighs. Now some stupid whore's attempting to mark her territory. Mallory can't let that happen.

She tells herself this isn't jealousy. She realizes she's a goddamn liar.

The intense ache in her chest alarms her. _Is this what heartbreak feels like?_

Attempting to compose herself, she weighs her options. She has no definitive evidence of wrongdoing to accuse Michael of anything. Besides, they're just friends with benefits. Mallory has no claim over him.

Still, it doesn't stop the irrational feeling burning deep inside of her.

The knowledge that Michael is actually fucking someone else isn't the issue. The identity of his cockrag is.

Mallory has to know for certain. She remembers Miss Cordelia and Zoe talking about specific spells that can open portals.

Eying Michael's ornate cheval mirror, she decides it's the perfect hiding spot, seeing as it directly faces his bed.

He probably watches himself while he's fucking. _Smug asshole_.

She's not sure if it will work or if she even possesses the right kind of magic to pull it off, but she's trying anyway.

_Are you seriously considering this, Mallory?_

Yes. Yes, she is.

Standing against her reflection, she looks directly into her eyes, takes a deep breath and recites words in a language she hasn't dared utter in years.

"trahere me"

Skin prickling from the familiar thrum of adrenaline, her hands reach to touch the wave-like ripples distorting her reflection.

Hands take hold of hers causing her to gasp. She sees the eyes, her eyes, staring at her, before coming forward. This Mallory is different.

"trahere me" she shakily whispers once more.

The silver-haired parallel cups her face delicately, softly kisses her lips and slowly pulls her through the looking glass.

Michael will be back eventually.

She waits.

\-----------------------------------

Giggles and eager, sloppy kisses mingle. Clothes are coming off. Hands are fondling and caressing the most intimate parts of one another. They've barely made the bed before Michael's aligned himself and begins thrusting.

Mallory is silently watching the show.

Her suspicions now confirmed.

She starts pushing out until her similar stops her.

"I know you want to. It's best to wait."

"I can't stand watching this anymore."

Mallory waits until they're sleeping to undo the spell.

She could easily kill Madison. She refrains. Her lips ghost over Michael's. He wakes at the near contact and sees they're alone.

Her magic worked faster. This time anyways.

When sleep takes hold again, he dreams of a familiar face. A belt of thorns adorns her naked hips. Her eyes cry crimson tears. This isn't his Mallory.

A faceless, hooded figure with black feathered wings materializes. It's scythe dangerously close. Mallory steps back against it and lets it's wings encircle her, before they become engulfed in flames.

He wakes in a cold sweat.

He knows omens when he seems them.

\-----------‐------------------------

Mallory's drug habits have taken a hit. Coke no longer gives the same high. Looking for a different feeling, she's taken to speedballing.

It took her a while to get used to injecting herself, but she's a pro now.

Lately, Debbie's scooping her up off floors and out of cars.

"I love you honey, but you can't keep doing this to yourself."

She tucks her in bed and tells her not to leave or call anyone unless it's an emergency. She tells her she'll be back after the club closes and will spend the night with her.

Her skin won't stop prickling. She's so cold. She runs herself a hot bath.

Debbie didn't find the needle she currently has sticking out of her arm, hidden inside the sliced bread. Debbie raided the whole place and didn't find it.

Mallory just wants peace.

The tub feels more comfortable. She feels held. She's exhausted.

Lids heavy. Breathing labored. She's scarcely above the water.

An elegantly dressed woman in black with a fishnet veil draping her face appears.

"Mallory, we've done this dance for years. Are you ready this time?"

Mallory's eyes are barely staying open.

"Pl-ease. I'm s-so tired."

Two large black feathered wings opened before she descended down to deliver the eternal kiss.

She looks outwardly at herself.

She ignored her own suffering. Years of turmoil show in her features.

She feels serene. For now.

She knows she belongs rotting in hell.

\------------------------------

"She's not here, Sugar."

Debbie walks up to see Michael outside, smoking a cigarette.

_"Excuse me?"_

"I know you're here for Mallory. I just dropped her off home. She's in a bad way."

_"What's wrong with her?"_

"Don't tell me you don't know." She scoffs. "I've been taking care of that girl for years, she was never this bad. Not until you started fucking around."

Michael is speechless.

"If you aren't gonna help her, stay away from her. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Debbie leaves him standing there dumbfounded. If Mallory didn't love her so much, Michael would have eviscerated her.

His next course of action is to go to Mallory. For once in his life, he'll apologize.

Three subtle knocks on her door later; he waits. No acknowledgment. _**'Maybe she's resting.'**_

Unlocking it with a simple gesture, he makes his way in.

Bed's vacant. Most of the lights are off. He sees the glow coming from under the bathroom door in the hallway. He knocks, calls her name but gets no answer. Annoyed, he finally opens the door and isn't quite prepared for what he's seeing on the other side.

The needle is still in her arm. He sees her various track marks. _**'This is what Debbie was talking about.'**_ Her calls her name. She isn't responsive.

He realizes there's no pulse.

Panic arises. She's not breathing. He rips the needle from her bruised flesh. He practically crawled inside the bathtub to steady her.

_"MALLORY! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!?!"_

He doesn't realize he's crying until his eyes are stinging and snot is running down his lips.

Mumbles and incoherent pleas reverberate along the tiled bathroom walls.

If Michael doesn't get his shit together, she'll endure her eternal suffering for longer than needed.

It's no secret where she'll end up in her afterlife.

Desolate and screaming, he's left cradling her lifeless body. Gently rocking as he whispers into her hair.

_"I'm coming. I promise."_

The beats of his heart are slowing by the minute. His breathing has slowed. He feels weightless as his vision begins to fade. Words he hasn't tasted in years slip past his drying lips as he succumbs to darkness...

"Daddy loves you very much, Mallory."

Her father brushes her hair away from her face, his hands begin to wander down to her collarbone.

"Why don't you come sit on Daddy's lap?"

Mallory's perpetual torment doesn't shock him. The terror in her eyes breaks his heart.

Michael says nothing as he grabs her hand and shields her eyes. She feels something warm splatter against her legs.

Water sloshes and spills as Michael jolts awake. Instinctually, he pulls Mallory to his chest.

He waits.

She gasped unexpectedly as her heart started beating. Distraught, Michael holds her steady.

She wasn't supposed to be back here. This wasn't supposed to happen. _No. No._ Hell terrified her but her life terrified her more. Michael is a selfish bastard.

_"I almost lost you."_

He reminisces about the first time he saw her. He saw her in a dream before she knew he was a tangible being. She remembers. She remembers him.

The fog-shrouded forest, with its stagnant lull, is the only facet of her fucked up childhood that she clings to.

She recalls Miss Cordelia's words. She recites them to herself. They slowly seep past her lips. Barely distinct utterances are whispered.

Water bubbles and turns black around them. Mallory holds Michael tight.

"Tempus Infinituum."

They descend into gleaming darkness. Their existence has been altered.

\------------------------------------

Mallory's eyes gradually flutter open as the daylight dawns on her. Soft grass tickles as she shifts her hands. _Grass?_ Darting up, she studies her surroundings. She recognizes this place.

Walking along, she dips her toes into the soil, enjoying how soft it feels. Humming a beloved tune while picking up acorns and flowers, she hears something call her name from within the forest.

_ **Mallory...** _

She sees a murder of crows flying aloft. She swears she hears her name filling the air within the cacophony of caws and flutters of frenzied wings. They're calling to her. Calling for her.

_ **Mallory...** _

She follows the unsung melody of her ill-fated name.

The vast field gives way to an ominous path. The sensation deep within her solar plexus awakens every nerve throughout her tiny form.

A forked path awaits Mallory. She chooses the one where the sun no longer follows.

Walking along, following the sounds of "caws" echoing around her, she stumbles upon a fatally wounded fawn. Her fingertips itch bitterly as tears swell in her eyes. Her heart races as something surges in her veins. Resting her hands over it's body, she imagines breathing life into it. Pictures it's heart beating once again. She's startled when something licks her hand...

She smiles through her tears.

An appreciative nuzzle into her hands causes her wet lashes to flutter open. Bringing itself upright, it looks to Mallory before it becomes uneasy of the crows gathering overhead.

Descending upon the surrounding trees encircling them, settling on bare branches, the fluttering abruptly becomes still. The fawn scurries away as a brazen noisy squawker finds it's way towards Mallory's feet.

Her mama's told her about these fascinating birds. They're harbingers of omens. Crows are said to usher souls into the afterlife. It's also believed they harbor lost or damned souls; they remain eternally imprisoned, never laying to rest.

Ever the inquisitive child, she wonders if her feathered companion is an unfortunate soul, or, it solely came to collect.

There's no uncertainty or fear dwelling within her being.

Her voice, delicate and meek, asks, "are you here for me?"

Reaching down to greet her chattering friend, the sound of crunching branches unsettles her nerves.

Senses elevated, she refrains from moving. Steps shift cautiously as they approach. A loud crack of a branch breaking causes the bird to flee.

A silvery, honeyed voice breaks the uncomfortable stillness.

_"Don't be afraid."_

Turning, she locks eyes with a tall, blonde man.

There's no movement from either creature.

_His hair is long and pretty. He looks like a prince with those clothes._

Michael smiles listening in to her juvenile thoughts. She's not been tainted by the burden of the fucked up life she's yet to experience.

He gingerly steps towards her. Closing the gap, he crouches down to her level. The innocence she carries in her gaze still shines throughout. Her cognac-colored eyes hold many unknown truths. No constellations could emulate it. They rival his own in perfection.

_"I won't hurt you. I promise."_

Holding up his empty hands, she wonders what he's doing. Until she feels something cold touching her shoulders. She holds out her palm and catches the white flurries falling. She's never seen actual snow.

She looks on in wonderment. With a subtle wave of his hand, the frigid wonderland is gone.

_"See? I'm like you, Mallory."_

"You know my name?"

He points to the trees surrounding them. They're littered with the sounds of caws. The loudest squawker returns, seemingly unafraid now.

_"A little birdie told me."_

Mallory's touch is delicate as she approaches. It isn't frightened. It lightly taps its beak against her hand. She smiles at the gesture.

The corvid proceeds to vocalize with an odd rattling call. Mallory is fascinated.

_"They call to you."_

Enjoying the smooth feathers under her fingertips, she looks to Michael with brimming curiosity. Mallory doesn't know his name yet he knows hers. She wants to inquire. Michael is enjoying meddling around in the labyrinth of her child-like psyche. She's not mastered her craft; her magic isn't sufficient enough to counteract his. Yet.

He sees her questionable eyes and waits for her to communicate.

"What's your name?"

He responds with a legitimate smile, _"My name is Michael."_

She tentatively reaches forward and runs her fingers through his soft, long waves.

It reminds her of her mama's. Only she thinks Michael's may be prettier. Softer.

She's not threatened by him, so Michael lets her play with his hair, twirling her little fingers through it. She notices his rings and delicately touches each one. He realizes how young she still is.

"I made the deer alive again."

It comes out a murmur. Barely audible.

She feels afraid. Ashamed. Michael can't fathom it.

_"You did. It was extraordinary. Not many have that gift, Mallory."_ He holds out his hand for her to take. She hesitates at first, but does. His large hand envelops hers.

"Mama says I'm not normal."

Incredibly young yet wise beyond her years.

_"Look at me."_ She looks, without hesitation._"We are nothing like normal. There isn't anything wrong with you."_

She stifles a giggle.

Her demeanor instantly changes when she realizes she has to leave shortly.

_"Can I stay here with you?"_

Michael's take aback by her sudden bluntness.

_"I'm afraid that's not possible."_

"Why not?"

_"It's hard to explain right now. You'll see me again. I promise."_

She's contemplative. Her expression questionable.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

_"Anything."_

He nearly falls back when she gets close to him. She cups her hand to his ear and whispers things that no child should have to. _Daddy scares me. He likes to play a special game..._ Michael knows all about her past. Hearing it first-hand feels even more infuriating.

He gives her special instructions.

He swears to protect her.

"Pinky promise?"

She holds up her pinky. He loops his finger around hers and locks them together.

Michael always keeps his promises.

\------------------------------

Authorities received an emergency call of gunshots being fired. Later, they issue a statement. A murder/suicide sends Louisiana into a state of panic. The lone survivor is a five-year-old child.

Forensics can't solve how the gun fired.

The trajectories of the bullets don't align.

The only other person home at the time of the incident is a child...

\-------------------------------

Mallory moves in with her Aunt Myrtle.

Aunt Myrtle lives at a special school. Mallory is excited to see her. She remembers her bright red hair and her funny-looking dresses.

Miss Fiona and Miss Cordelia are very nice to her when she arrives.

"We'll have to get you out of those dreadful clothes my sweet child."

Mallory hopes Miss Cordelia picks her some pretty dresses instead of Aunt Myrtle.

"Poor thing. Losing both parents so tragically..."

Cordelia and her bleeding heart.

"That was no accident. That child? Shakes hands with devils..."

"Fiona!"

"I'd keep an eye on that one if I were you..."

\-------------------------------

Mallory blossoms into an extraordinary young witch. She'd become Fiona's protégé before Cordelia's ascension. She remained gentle and kind even through Fiona's supremacy.

Throughout the years, a tall handsome man frequented her dreams. She wonders if they'll ever come to fruition.

That is until Aunt Myrtle is apoplectic about news from Hawthorne School. A gifted young warlock has generated talk about possibly dethroning Miss Cordelia.

When the rivaling schools meet, the would-be Alpha sets his sights on Mallory.

He observes her as she walks along the garden. A corvid settles on the bench near her. It immediately catches her attention. Her admirer makes his move.

_"They call to you..."_

Her heart pounds erratically at the silvery voice.

"Michael?"

\-------------------------------

Desperate survivors await their fates.

Outpost Three houses some of the last surviving inhabitants on earth. An heiress, a hairdresser, a talk show commentator and a slew of other unfortunates gather as a tall, beautiful dark-haired man makes his impressive entrance.

Piercing blue eyes shine even in the low-lit amber void.

_ **'They all reek of hypocrisy and despondency.'** _

_"My name is Langdon and I represent the cooperative..."_

An elegant doe-eyed woman accompanies him. Beauty equally as striking, the residents can't help but eye fuck the strange duo.

He announces he will conduct interviews and make selections for the sanctuary.

False hopes are his specialty.

With lies planted, the game begins...

\------------------------------

Michael watches Mallory from afar as she meanders throughout the common room.

Gulping down a glass of his hidden stash of scotch, he stares off into the fireplace in a state of reflective melancholy.

Had this been their previous existence, would Mallory still be capable of loving him despite the blood that stains his hands?

_ **'No, she probably wouldn't.'** _

He knows he's a bastard. Satan's walking cumshot isn't a fucking saint. He's carried out his father's laid out plans and has Mallory's love. As far as he's concerned, he's triumphant.

He justifies his actions with his own notion of salvation. He saved Mallory from her former life and she's unknowingly indebted to him.

It's a secret that dies with him.

"What are you thinking about?"

Her voice breaks Michael out his reverie. His beloved is staring with a knowing smile.

He beckons her toward him.

Ravenous and drunk on his wife's scent, he's feeling adventurous tonight. The music suddenly changes to something slightly sensual...

_"I want my little witch to dance for me."_

"Do you now?"

His eyes linger as he watches her.

Lounging back, he closes his eyes and reminisces. Relishing in the way she grinds herself on his bulging cock, as she did in another lifetime she has no recollection of. She has a natural talent for this. He behaves himself and resists touching her.

For the moment.

"Aren't you afraid someone will see?"

_"Everyone will be dead soon enough anyway."_

She hums softly. She straddles his lap and grinds herself on him, earning a throaty moan.

His hands roam over the subtle bump of her stomach.

Her hands weave through his dark locks and harshly pulls.

"I love you."

A passionate kiss follows. There's no chasing. No wondering. Everything is real.

Michael doesn't feel an ounce of guilt for his decisions. Why would he? Having Mallory forget her past life is better for both of them. They can have a happy ending.

_ **'Who's going to stop me?'** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few fun things : Mallory's mirror parallel is basically Winter Anderson of Cult. That's what I based it off.
> 
> The bouncer is Chet. Nod to 84.
> 
> "trahere me" - "Pull me in" 
> 
> Michael's dream : The belt of thorns and the faceless death, is a reference to Roberto Ferri's painting "l'angelo, la morte e il diavolo" You can see what I mean there.
> 
> Speedballs are a mix of cocaine and heroin (usually) it can be snorted but most people I've heard using it, have done it intravenously.
> 
> Shachath aka the angel of death takes Mallory. I had her use a version of what she says to Jude before she takes her.
> 
> And yes, I changed a huge detail, that Mallory has no recollection of their past lives. Spoiler, that was Michael's doing.
> 
> Also, new timeline Michael has long dark brown/black hair. Thought it'd be a nice little mix up after I saw a nice manip pic.


End file.
